One at a time
by karenhal
Summary: In progress.
1. Chapter 1

"Sherlock!" John called down the stairs of flat 221B. "Sherlock!". John stood in his room as he waited for an answer, which of course he didn't get. He walked over to the door of his bedroom, grabbed his dressing gown and dragged himself down the stairs to the living room. He tied his dressing gown and peered into the living room. Dead still. He stepped into the room and looked out the window. It was a beautiful morning outside - although it was hard to see because Sherlock refused to let dust around the windows and shelves. John listened to the silence that filled the apartment for any signs as to where Sherlock was. Suddenly he heard the tap of fingers on the wooden table in the kitchen. He walked through to find Sherlock sitting, staring at what appeared to be one of his experiments, tapping his fingers on the table with one hand and cradling his face in the other. "Sherlock. I called you from upstairs and you didn't reply." Sherlock sat in silence for a few seconds until finally speaking.

"Oh sorry I didn't hear you".

"What the hell is all of this? What are you doing?" John was staring at the equipment on the kitchen table. There were 5 petri dishes lined up next to one another, a small package box that had been opened, and what appeared to be a broken mug, among Sherlock's usual science equipment that he kept in the kitchen instead of food. Sherlock remained silent and stopped tapping his fingers. John was getting pretty irritated. "Sherlock! Will you answer me?" Sherlock sensed the tone and replied. "Last night after I got back from my case I found this box at our doorstep. It didn't have an address on it so I figured that someone might have left it there by accident. But why would someone leave a small, unopened package outside our door? People know me John, they know what I do. It's clearly a sign for another case! Now I just need to figure out wha-"

"Ok I'm sorry, let me get this straight. You saw an unopened package at our door with no address on it, decided it must be a clue of some sort, took it upstairs and smashed the contents to bits for evidence?!" Sherlock looked straight up at John and gave him a look as if he were the dumbest thing on earth. "I didn't break it John, it was already broken. Completely shattered, parts of it almost like dust left over from the ceramic. Now people say that the postal services aren't all that great but they certainly didn't fling this box back and forth so much that it turned partly to dust. It was done on purpose. I don't know why, yet."

"So we had a box with a broken mug at our door and that must mean we have a new case on our hands, huh?" John said sarcastically while preparing his morning coffee, "When did you find it there anyway? Was it earlier this morning?"

"Last night, around 9 o'clock. I told you already, don't you listen?" "9? Did you stay up all night looking into this?"

"Yup."

"Sherlock! It's just a bloody mug, what's the big deal? It was clearly there by mista-"

"It was not a mug, it was a teapot. You can see from some of the larger pieces that they would've fit together in the shape of one, and there are clear remainders of a lid. Also there are patterns along some of the pieces, that have been cracked open. I swabbed the inside of cracks along it and found that this teapot was at least 130 years old. Don't you see John? This must mean something!" John looked into Sherlock's crazy eyes with a look of utter confusion on his face. He sat down at the other side of the table with his coffee, took a quick sip and sighed. "I can't believe I'm saying this but, what do you think it could mean?" Sherlock looked back down at the table and frowned slightly. "I don't know. Not yet anyway. But I'll get more evidence. I'm just gonna need a few more petri dishes."


	2. Chapter 2

Days past and Sherlock barely moved from the kitchen, occasionally getting up to get pieces of evidence that he had scattered around the flat, or to get a cup of tea. He was deep in thought when John walked into the apartment with shopping bags. "Just came back from the shops, bloody cashier only gave me back half of my change." John looked up, and noticed that Sherlock probably hadn't heard a word of what he said. "Sherlock? Sherlock come on you've been completely quiet and still for like 3 days now, you have to do something. Eat, sleep, go out, do something!" Sherlock didn't move a muscle, and continued to stare at the desk in un-divided concentration. "Come on, you should go out. Go walk around for a bit, get some fresh air." Sherlock inhaled sharply but didn't move otherwise. "Dull." John let out a long sigh of frustration. "Well you can't just sit there for weeks on end, can you?! You're gonna have to get up and do something. Have you even gotten any further with this "evidence" of yours?" John made quotation marks with his fingers in the air even though he knew Sherlock couldn't see what he was doing. "I have. Well, I have sort of. I've found where the teapot is from, or where this specific one was before it got to us. But I've looked at all the maps and the area is fields for miles."

"Why would someone try to lead you to a field with an old, broken teapot?" John said in genuine curiosity. "I don't know. The only way to find out is to go there. We'll leave tomorrow morning, it's near Maidstone. I'll need Anderson there, and maybe Lestrade if something important arises."

"W-w-w-wait. We? What makes you think I want to go out to Maidstone with you to find out about some ancient teapot?"

"I don't know why you seem so surprised. You go with me to most of my other cases, and that's what this is - a case." John frowned and looked at Sherlock who was now looking back up at him too. He rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll go. But I swear sometimes I feel like your bloody parent taking you round." Sherlock hinted at a tiny smirk. "Great. So tomorrow morning. Call Lestrade."


	3. Chapter 3

John stepped out of the car after the long drive and took in a deep breath. It may not be extremely fresh air, but certainly better than Central London. Sherlock stepped out from the other side of the car, wrapping his navy blue scarf round his neck as he did so. "Did you bring the teapot?" John asked. Sherlock reached into his coat pocket and grabbed a plastic bag with the shattered remains. "Where's Lestrade?"

"I dunno, think I saw him go behind one of the small trees over there."

"Well go get him and tell him to stop messing around. I've been on this case for far too long and would like to get further along with it." John looked over to the trees in the distance and saw Lestrade running towards them. "Where were you? Sherlock was getting annoyed."

"I had to find a tree that needed a good watering. Why didn't Sherlock let us stop on the way? Been bursting for over an hour."

"He's always like that. When there's something he needs to get done he doesn't stop for anything until it's done...Anyway he's over there, he said he needs you." Lestrade walked up to Sherlock, who was kneeling down on the grass, picking away at the dirt with his gloved fingers. "John said you needed me." Sherlock looked up for a second and back down at the grass. "I need Anderson, where is he?"

"He didn't come. You honestly just noticed?" Sherlock paused. "I was thinking."

"Okay well what do you need, I'll try and help out." Sherlock continued to dig away at the dirt in silence for a few seconds and then spoke. "I need plastic bags to bring dirt back to London. I put some in the glove compartment." Lestrade rolled his eyes and looked towards the car. "You needed Anderson here to bring you plastic bags?"

"Well what else is he good for?" Lestrade accepted that he wasn't going to get anywhere if he continued talking and went to the car without a word. He searched in the glove compartment of the passenger's seat, and found plastic bags among a ton of rubbish that looked like previous failed attempts of Sherlock's "evidence". As he got back up and slammed the door of the car shut he looked over to John, who was now walking slowly towards where Sherlock was kneeling down. He too started to walk in that direction. He got there and threw the bags onto the floor by Sherlock's head. "Got them for you." Sherlock simply nodded as he picked up the bags and started filling them with dirt and grass. "You really think that this dirt is gonna lead you to some sort of case?" John said, studying Sherlock's moves. "Of course" was Sherlock's only reply, as he continued to pick pieces of grass up and put them into seperate plastic bags. There was a minute of silence where John and Lestrade just looked down at the man as he did so, both utterly mesmerised by his determination. John looked up and so did Lestrade, both giving each other a look to say "We better just let him get on with it". Just as they looked back down, Sherlock jumped up and adjusted his coat as he did so. "I've got all I need. Let's go."


	4. Chapter 4

It was the next day when, almost identically to a few days ago, John walked down the stairs of 221B in his dressing gown, ready to make his morning coffee. And just like the other day, there he was. Sherlock was sitting at the kitchen table, resting his chin on his hands as he pressed them palm to palm. "Everything alright?" John said as he put the kettle on. "D'you want some tea?" Sherlock didn't move or say a word. "I'll take that as a no, then" John said, although he may as well have been talking to himself. "How's the evidence going? Got anything good?" The only sound was that of the kettle boiling. "Sherlock? I get that you're all mysterious and don't talk alot but it's pretty rude to just outright ignore me. I mean for god sak-"

"There is no evidence. It was a mistake. The teapot. The box at our door. Turned out to actually be a mistake, with the address label coming off as the parcel was handled in the post office. I have wasted 5 days that could've been spent on other cases finding evidence for something that was worth nothing." Sherlock said this in one breath as if he'd been ready to say it for hours. The kettle had finished boiling so the room was now completely silent, as John looked at the back of Sherlock's head. "Oh. Well...I mean it happens to everyone, it's fine to mess up every now and th-"

"I don't mess up, John. It's not something I do. I have never messed up. I always know what to do, it's why people come to me. I've failed." John was speechless. This didn't sound like Sherlock at all. He never spoke this way about... well anything. "How could I have been so stupid? Of course it wasn't a clue."

"Come on Sherlock, you're not stupid. You just had one minor fall back. It's fine." John couldn't believe what was happening right now. He had to comfort the man. Sherlock Holmes was doubting himself and John had to comfort him. Sherlock moved his hands from their original position to ruffle his hair as he stood up and looked at John. "Well what am I supposed to do now? This is completely ridiculous."

"You'll always have another case. Infact a few have been collecting over the last few days, so you've got the privilege of picking one that looks good. I've put them up on your laptop, you can go have a look." Sherlock piered round at his laptop then back at John. "I've failed." John didn't know whether he felt sorry for the man or whether he was just getting on his nerves. Before he had the chance to decide Sherlock had basically flopped into John's arms, and John didn't know what to think at that point. He thought that maybe Sherlock had taken something, because this was certainly not how he would react if he were sober. But at the front of his mind he hoped that Mrs. Hudson wouldn't walk in at that moment - it would definitely be difficult to explain himself out of that one.


	5. Chapter 5

John was cautious around Sherlock for a while, in an attempt to figure out what had happened that morning. Why was Sherlock Holmes showing...emotion? Every morning, since Mrs. Hudson was away for a week, John would wake up and go downstairs to make Sherlock some tea. Of course Sherlock was awake already, he just hadn't bothered to make it himself, he just expects it to appear in front of him somehow. John prepared his coffee and Sherlock's tea and walked with one in each hand into the living room, where Sherlock was sitting motionless in his chair. "Here you go, figured if I didn't make it you'd die of dehydration." John said sarcastically as he put the mug down on the desk next to Sherlock. "So how're you?" John asked as he sat in his own chair, hoping to get some sort of answer. Instead of an answer he got a confused facial expression from the man sitting in front of him. "How am I? Since when do we ask questions like that? I didn't know we were doing small talk now" He said, confusion on his face still fully in tact. "It's not small talk I just- okay it is, I just want to know if everything's okay? Ever since what happened a couple of days ago you seem...I dunno...I mean...are you sure that-"

"You do have a way with words, Watson"

"Oh shut it. I just want to know that you are doing okay."

"Yes I'm fine."

"Is this one of those things where you say you're fine and you're not because according to my past relationships I'm not very good at determining whethe-"

"I'm fine." Sherlock picked up the tea that was getting cold on his desk and took a sip. "Why wouldn't I be? I had that case last night which you so kindly refused to join me in. It was good- well I say good, it was one of the simplest, cliché murders I've ever encountered, but it was quite amusing that everyone was absolutely terrified when nothing had really happened." John squinted at Sherlock with a slight hint of disgust at his lack of sympathy, but quickly remembered who he was talking to. "Okay. I was just wondering. Anyway got any plans for today? Any other cases you'd like to work on?"

"Hmm, I'll probably continue with the experiment I started last night, I got bored and went outside to see if I could find traces of Class A drugs in and around our flat. You know they say that there-" Sherlock was abruptly interrupted by the phone, which John picked up. "Hello?...Oh hi!...Sounds good...uh huh...yeah, how about 7?...Okay cool, I'll see you then...you too, bye." John put down the phone and looked up at Sherlock, who seemed defensive for whatever reason. "Who was that?"

"Oh, that was Danielle, remember I met her last week? We're gonna go out tonight for dinner and a movie."

"Really? Dinner and a movie, have you really stooped down to the dullest, most predictable idea of a so called date?" John sighed. "Well what do you want me to do, huh? Take her to the bloody moon?"

Sherlock shrugged his shoulders and finished the remainders of his tea. When Mrs. Hudson made it there would never be anything left at the bottom, but when John made it there would always be little pieces at the bottom where the tea bag had slightly broken. Sherlock took the last sip and stood up quickly. Although he didn't admit it, something was wrong. And he would never say it but he really loved John's company. Even if he made Sherlock mediocre tea.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning Sherlock woke up at the very reasonable hour of 6 o'clock (considering that the past week he had woken up at around 3am, or not slept at all). He got into his dressing gown and opened the door, expecting to see John, as usual, making his coffee as he does every morning. But when he opened his bedroom door, the flat was still and lifeless. Sherlock wiped away at his eyes and walked into the kitchen, looking for any signs of John. The coffee jar was closed, with no teaspoon in the sink. John's chair was cold. This was probably because the windows across from the chair were open, but John didn't like having the windows open at night and would've closed them if he were home. Sherlock searched his brain for where John could be at 6 in the morning.

Oh wait.

His date with Danielle. It was last night. In a matter of 2 seconds Sherlock had gone from curious to depressed. He wanted John there. He wanted John to be there when he woke up, to make his tea, to ask him about his experiments, to listen to him. Just to be there. But as these thoughts rushed into his head, Sherlock started to question himself. Why was he suddenly so attached to John in this way? No he wasn't, of course he wasn't. John was just his roommate, his friend. His "colleague". His best friend. His BEST friend. His only friend. Sherlock looked up as he came back and realised that his thoughts had drifted off. In an attempt to fool himself, Sherlock pretended he had not been thinking about John, and tried to carry on. He sat at the kitchen table ready to continue his experiment. He wanted tea, but he wanted John's tea, so he didn't have any at all. He would just continue with the experiment.

Yup, until John got back.

For the first time in his life Sherlock couldn't concentrate. He had his experiments, he had an inbox filled to its virtual rim with cases for him to solve and explore. But he couldn't. He just couldn't because his mind was being littered with thoughts of the man he had barely known a few months, who was there to pay rent, at first. He didn't know why this feeling had suddenly grown so strong with no warning, why this man suddenly seemed so... so desirable. And for the first time in his life Sherlock didn't know what to do with these emotions. Hah, emotions. He'd like to think of himself as a man of little or no emotion, a man who could work and work with no interruption. He liked to think of himself as his own version of a superhero. But to his disappointment, he seemed human after all.

*4 hours later*

Sherlock was deep in thought at the kitchen table when he heard the sound of the front door opening. Like a child he jolted up and grinned. He was waiting for John for so long, he wanted company. Although he tried to act casual he couldn't contain this sudden excitement. "John?" He called down the stairs. He waited for a reply, but instead heard footsteps going up the stairs. He looked at the doorway with a huge grin, which must've been rather confusing to Mrs. Hudson as she appeared in the doorway. "Oh hello, Sherlock! See you haven't moved from the spot you were in when I'd left." She said in a cheery voice, clearly thinking that the smile was intended for her. Sherlock's face dropped back down to it's usual expression. "Hello. How was your week away?" He said, not exactly interested. "It was lovely, thanks for asking! Oh I met the loveliest people over the-"

"Do you know where John might be?" Mrs. Hudson looked at Sherlock with a clueless expression then a small smile. "Well I've been gone for a week now haven't I? How should I know where he is?" Sherlock's only response was a shoulder shrug and a glance at the experiment on the table. "When did you see him last?" Sherlock pretended to be uninterested and involved only with his experiment. Then after a few seconds he replied. "Last night before he went on a date." Mrs. Hudson looked shocked, to Sherlock's misunderstanding. "A date?! What happened between you two, is everything alright?"

"Yes, everything is fine."

"If everything's fine then what's John doing on a date?" Sherlock squinted in confusion at Mrs. Hudson, who looked genuinely upset. "You know if anything happened between you and John you can talk to me. Who did he go out with?"

"A Danielle, not sure of her last name."

"It's a woman?! Gosh I didn't know John, you know...plays for both teams." Mrs. Hudson said this with a small wink, then returned back to her worried expression, and Sherlock was as puzzled as ever. He stared directly at his work to seem as though he didn't care. Sherlock's thoughts were racing. Did Mrs. Hudson honestly think him and John were a couple? Is that how they looked to other people? And why did she immediately assume John was gay? Did he seem that way? Maybe he had told her something. Maybe he told Mrs. Hudson that he liked Sherlock. His thoughts were interrupted once again, when Mrs. Hudson walked through to the living room. "Oh Sherlock, look at the mess on your desk!" She said as she picked random things up off of it. Sherlock rolled his eyes. It's not that he was unhappy to see Mrs. Hudson, of course he wasn't. He was just expecting someone else...


End file.
